Page 55 of Promised to the Ruthless Laird
The clang of steel, the screams of the dying — it all blurred into the background. The only thing that mattered now was reaching the dungeons.
Mackay’s eyes burned with anger, but it was over, the battle had ended. The laird’s army had fallen, and Finley had won.
Mackay's armor rattled with every step as Finley dragged him forward.
“I’m taking ye tae Davina. Now.” Finley’s voice was low, a growl from the depths of his chest.
Mackay winced, a grunt of pain escaping his lips, his body swaying unsteadily as Finley’s grip tightened. His eyelids hung heavy, and blood seeped from his wounds. He couldn't speak or move. His breath came in short gasps; his face pale with pain and frustration, lips pressed tight. Yet he stayed silent, unable to respond.
Finley could feel the man’s pulse pounding beneath his fingers as he dragged him along with every step, and part of him savored the growing helplessness in Mackay’s expression.
The dungeons loomed ahead, the entrance dark and foreboding, the stench of damp stone thick in the air. Finley dragged him inside, his eyes locked on the laird’s face, waiting for some sort of protest, some sign of resistance. But Mackay gave none.
Finley’s fingers had just grazed the handle when Mackay wrenched free.
With a snarl, he swung at Finley, landing a heavy blow to his ribs. Finley staggered, but caught himself, his teeth gritting as Mackay lunged again. Their bodies collided, slamming into the stone wall as they grappled for control. Mackay fought with the desperation of a cornered beast, his strikes fueled by raw defiance.
“Ye think I’ll let ye drag me like a dog?” Mackay spat, shoving against Finley’s chest.
Finley answered with his fist, driving it into Mackay’s jaw with bone-rattling force. The laird reeled, blood at the corner of his mouth, but he refused to fall. He came back swinging, his knuckles cracking against Finley’s cheek.
Finley barely felt the pain. His vision narrowed, instincts taking over as he dodged the next strike and drove his knee into Mackay’s stomach. The laird let out a strangled sound, but before he could recover, Finley slammed him hard against the stone wall.
Mackay sagged slightly, breath ragged, but his glare burned hot with hatred. Finley pressed his forearm against the man’s throat, pinning him. “If ye had any sense, ye’d stop fightin’,” he growled, his voice low and lethal.
Mackay struggled, his hands clawing at Finley’s arm; but his strength was waning. Finally, with one last shove, Finley wrenched him away from the wall and dragged him inside.
The heavy dungeon door groaned open, revealing the dim torchlight within. Finley shoved Mackay forward, causing him to stumble onto his hands and knees. This time, the laird stayed down, breathing hard, his fingers curling against the cold stone.
“Finley!” Davina cried out, her voice high with relief.
“I’m here Davina. I have come tae get ye!” he answered her, his voice betraying his emotion.
And then, Finley’s gaze lifted?—
And he saw her.
Edin.
His breath caught for a moment at the quiet intensity in her expression. She was crouched in front of Davina’s cell, her movements precise as her fingers worked quickly at the lock.
Edin’s focus was unshakable, each movement calculated.
“What are ye daein’ here?” Finley’s tone was sharper than he’d meant, laced with disbelief but also an undercurrent of something like pride.
His gaze flicked from Edin to Mackay, who remained slumped in his hold, no longer putting up any resistance.
“Daein’ what I was called tae dae.” There was no apology in her tone. Only certainty. Edin returned her gaze to the lock, barely sparing him a glance, as she gave it one last twist. It clicked open. Only then did she stand, her eyes meeting his. “I was makin’ sure she was safe,” Edin said softly, her tone steady despite the circumstances. “I’m nae leavin’ without getting her out.”
Finley felt a tightening in his chest, not just because of her words, but also because of the conviction in them. He hadn’t asked for her to come, yet she was there, by his side, nonetheless.
He pushed Mackay forward, dragging him toward the cold stone wall. The laird staggered slightly before regaining his balance, his eyes darting between Edin and Finley.
There was a long pause before he finally sighed, his shoulders slumped.
“Ye think ye can intimidate me, Lennox?” Mackay sneered, but the venom in his voice lacked the conviction it once had.
“I’m getting me sister back.” Finley’s words were cold. “And ye’re going tae give her tae me, whether ye want tae or nae.”
